


Christmas Carol

by ishime



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bruce deserved it, Christmas Presents, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishime/pseuds/ishime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On December 24th, around 6 PM, a group of carolers comes to the manor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chonaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chonaku/gifts).



**1.**

  
On December 24th, around 6 PM, a group of carolers comes to the manor; five teenagers in old, patched-up clothes, wrapped up in shawls and scarfs. They're not the first of Gotham's poorer children to come earn some of Alfred's gingerbread, but they're the only ones to sing in Russian. They do it beautifully, so Alfred stays at the doorstep a bit longer than necessary before giving them hot chocolate with a bag of cake, and bidding them farewell.  
Bruce watches them walk away from a window, memories of Damian nitpicking at the singing a year before flashing before his eyes. His heart is so heavy, he almost misses one girl sneaking back to the doorstep, and slowly putting a box on the steps. She trots down to the middle of the alley, glances back and notices Bruce. He flashes her one of Brucies' grins, with a little wave, but she doesn't smile back - she scowls, and picks something in her pocket.  
Bruce watches, abashed, as she takes a step back, then sprints in his direction and throws something at his face.  
It bounces off the window, leaving a dent and a black smudge on the glass. Bruce almost runs after her, before remembering he's supposed to be Brucie right now. He hears Alfred hurry back out, but the girl has already done a U-turn and sprinted to the gate. All hope of catching her are long gone - she has too much of a head-start, and she runs too fast for Alfred anyway.  
  
Bruce joins his butler on the doorstep. He is holding the package left by the girl: a box wrapped in kraft paper, with 'Merry Christmas to Alfred Pennyworth' and 'FRAGILE' in big clumsy black letters written on top.  
Bruce frowns at the message. Alfred hands him the package without a word, and goes to the window, to assess the damage.  
  
Bruce lifts the box to his ear. No sound. Probably not a bomb, then, but better safe than sorry. He strides to the cave, holding the box carefully, and puts it on his newest, most advanced machine. He starts a complete analysis, and waits four long minutes for the screen to show him-  
A tea cup. China porcelain, if the shape is any indication. No noticeable chemicals, the wrapping is made of paper only.  
Bruce's frown deepens. He cuts the kraft paper, keeping the message intact for graphology, and takes the cup out to inspect it. It's old, very white, with gold linings; probably an antique.  
  
When Alfred comes down the steps, Bruce gives him the cup. The old man holds it to the light, shifting it delicately, inspecting it at every angle.  
"Authentic bone china, with gilding, master Bruce. A fine present, actually." A pause. "I'm afraid yours isn't quite as nice."  
Alfred puts the cup down on a nearby table, then picks something out of his pocket - the projectile thrown at the window, Bruce realizes.  
  
Coal.

**2.**

  
Jason hates Christmas.  
It's fucking freezing outside - and he remembers another life under a bridge, with only a fire in a can to fight the cold, cold bite of winter - the streets are crawling with shoppers begging to be pick-pocketed - a life spent running after dumb passers-by to relieve them from their wallets -  the speakers' crackling mangle the same old syrupy songs as every goddamn year - not-mom Catherine Todd singing carols to help him sleep, the manor, spending the Christmas eve with Alfred and B-  
And _to add insult to injury_ , the chili-dog stand down the street is _closed_ for the holidays.  
  
Jason fucking _hates_ Christmas.  
  
So he spent the 24th holed up in his dingiest safe-house, cleaning his guns, all his guns, repairing the leaking faucet, unblocking the shower's sink, changing the bathroom light bulb, doing the pile of left-over dishes, washing their uniforms.  
Not. Desperately killing time until Sacha comes back from her "errand".  
(He survived for years on his own, he doesn't need Scarlet to babysit him.)  
  
She rings the doorbell at eight, as promised. Jason does not rush to the door.  
He waits until she's done the full code with the ring. (Priorities.)  
Then he comes to take her in, help her with the groceries and even the cooking - though she'd probably go faster if she peeled all the vegetables on her own. They leave the borscht to stew, and go slump on the old sofa. Jason throws the remote to Sacha, and hums as she switches channels to RTN+.  
"So," he drawls, "mission successful?"  
She nods, cuts the sound of the commercial for a Russian magazine, and adds:  
"Oh, and I got you-know-who something, too."  
Jason jumps.  
"You got _Bruce_ a present?"  
Sacha gives him an evil, evil grin.  
"What does your Santa Claus send for naughty people?"  
  
Jason blinks.  
Stares.  
And cackles like a madman.  
"You're the best," he says, and he throws a pillow at her smug face.

**3.**

  
On December 25th, 09:00, Scarlet's old blog is updated - an entry sent to the server in advance, from a cybercafé in Canada.  
  
 _And that, mister B, is what you get for letting one son die and then taking it out on another._


End file.
